


Easing In

by msdisdain



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdisdain/pseuds/msdisdain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On this morning, Katniss is...different. Written for the Girl on Fire ficathon; the prompt was "today was one of the easier days." Post-Mockingjay; pre-epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easing In

There are so many difficult days--days filled with shaking and horror and accusations we don't mean, not really, _except maybe deep down a little or a lot or maybe not at all, maybe just for a moment_ ; days filled with hours that pass like minutes or lifetimes and whispers that rip through you like screams. 

But today was one of the easier days. 

Today when I knocked at the door, the bread in my hand still steaming, she opened it right away. The corners of her mouth quirked up into a small smile when she saw me, and when I leaned in to brush a kiss across her mouth, her hand came up to rest lightly on the back of my neck. She even hummed a little as I touched her tongue with mine. When I pulled away, her eyes were bright. 

"Hey," I murmured. 

"Good morning," she said, and her voice sounded...happy. 

Today Katniss was happy, and the... _sun_ of it nearly blinded me. 

She took the bread I handed her, tucked her hand into the crook of my arm, and led me into the house. 

Sometimes it seems absurd to keep up these little formalities, like baking bread in my own kitchen and knocking at the door of her house before breakfast, when I'd only just left her bed earlier that same morning--but we are still careful with one another, and the Games robbed us of any real courtship we might have had, so I am trying to make up for that in small ways now. I think she likes it--or maybe she just likes that I like it--but regardless, she tolerates it.

Greasy Sae had been and gone while I did the morning baking, and porridge bubbled hot on the stovetop. It's easy to figure out what Katniss has been up to since I kissed her forehead and slipped out of bed--her hair in its familiar braid is still damp; a small bunch of primroses sits in a jar in the center of the table; the last novel she ordered from the Capitol lies propped open against the sugar bowl. 

More signs that today will be a good day. 

She slices into the bread and smiles at me when she sees the familiar raisins and nuts. I don't often make this heavier bread in the mornings, but sometimes, when the previous night's dreams have been full of past sweetnesses instead of more recent horrors, I like to remind us both of the first time we saved one another. 

" _You_ saved _me_ then, Peeta; I didn't do anything for you!" she's said more than once. But didn't she? Wasn't the mere fact of her existing, of being there in that moment to save, of helping me to live rather than just to be--wasn't that how she saved me?

Her existence still saves me every day. 

"What do you want to do?" I ask around a mouthful of porridge. She drags her spoon through the bowl, looking down into it, and I wonder if I've overstepped. She may already have made plans, and I try not to impose--Katniss is so much more likely to come to me if she thinks it's been her idea. 

But her eyes lift to mine, and there's something in them I can't put my finger on. 

"I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you," she says quietly. 

I swallow around the enormous lump that's risen up in my throat. _Love,_ I think. That's what's in her eyes today. "Okay," I say, trying to keep my tone light. 

"Then you'll allow it?" she asks, rising and crossing to my side of the table. I push out from the edge and pull her gently into my lap. "I'll allow it," I murmur just before she fits her mouth to mine. 

Long minutes later, I say, even though I know the answer: "We've done this before. Real, or not real?"

"Real."

And then her hands are in my hair and she's kissing me again, smiling the whole time, and it's like we have been doing this consistently for years instead of doing...whatever it is we have been doing since the 74th Reaping. Between kisses she's whispering my name, and I don't know what happened today, I don't know why this is happening now. "I'm sorry I make this so hard, Peeta," she says as she kisses me and kisses me and kisses me. I idly think about making a rude joke but decide that I cannot risk altering this mood even a tiny bit. 

"This is easy," I manage. "Today is easy."

She shifts her weight and pulls back enough to be able to see my face. And then, so quietly that I can barely hear her, she says "Loving you is easy."

It's not, I know it's not, just like loving her isn't easy--and yet somehow, today, curled together in her kitchen in the sunshine, I think it is the easiest thing we will ever do. She leans her forehead against mine and tangles our hands together, and inside me my world revolves easily because Katniss Everdeen loves me. 

fin


End file.
